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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299179">Improper Communications</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstract_moth/pseuds/abstract_moth'>abstract_moth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friendship, Gen, Humor, I'm not being mean to yakov i promise, M/M, POV Multiple, Poor Yakov Feltsman, Social Media, This is why yakov is bald, Yakov Feltsman Is So Done, a few sexual innuendos bc this is the internet, no beta we die like yakovs patience whenever he has to deal with these idiots, would have been a 5+1 fic but it got too long</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:08:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstract_moth/pseuds/abstract_moth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In their defense, none of the Russian skaters could have predicted that introducing Yakov to social media would have led to such disastrous consequences. Nevertheless, they must now put aside their pride and dignity to attempt (and repeatedly fail) to address this problem. </p><p>(alternatively titled: 10 times the Russian skaters attempted to help Yakov with social media and one time they didn’t have to)</p><p>  <i>“No matter what happens, we are NOT introducing Yakov to Urban Dictionary.”</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Christophe Giacometti &amp; Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Lilia Baranovskaya &amp; Yakov Feltsman, Otabek Altin &amp; Yuri Plisetsky, Victor Nikiforov &amp; Georgi Popovich, not victuuri centered but there is a makeout scene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>263</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Improper Communications</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In hindsight, the entire situation was Viktor's fault.</p><p>The Russian skaters were on their way to the airport. In the backseat of the taxi, Viktor was seated between Georgi and Yakov. He was tapping away at his phone, trying his best to document the first competition of the season.</p><p>"Selfie!" Viktor said, raising his phone.</p><p>Georgi leaned into the frame, his lips spread into a simple smile. However, the man on Viktor's other side made no attempt to move. Viktor looked over at his coach, who was staring intently at the book in his lap.</p><p>"Yakov," Viktor said. "Get in the picture."</p><p>Yakov didn't even look up.</p><p>"Why?" he asked.</p><p>"It's for Instagram," Viktor said.</p><p>"Instagram," Yakov repeated in the same tone one might say "<em>vermin</em>."</p><p>With a slight shake of his head, Viktor threw his arm around Yakov and dragged him into the frame.</p><p>"Smile," Viktor said, taking the picture.</p><p>Yakov did not smile.</p><p>Viktor saved the photo anyway. He released Yakov, who returned to his book, his face noticeably redder than before.</p><p>Viktor spent the next few minutes editing and posting the picture. When he finished, he set his phone down again.</p><p>He looked over at his coach.</p><p>"Why don't you use social media?" Viktor asked.</p><p>"I don't need to."</p><p>"But it's so useful," Viktor said. "You can keep in touch with other skaters and engage with fans. I found it's also very good for sponsorships and branding…"</p><p>Yakov didn't seem to be listening at all. Decades of coaching had apparently gifted him with extremely selective hearing.</p><p>"And aren't you always encouraging us to build our public image?" Viktor pouted.</p><p>Still no response.</p><p>Yakov's eyes were stubbornly fixated on his book. Viktor watched him for a few moments, wondering how he could read in a moving car without getting dizzy. On his other side, Georgi was searching through his bag for his headphones.</p><p>Viktor sighed and glanced at the clock. With traffic, it was another hour until they arrived at the airport.</p><p>"That's it," Viktor said, taking out his phone. "I'm making you an Instagram."</p><p>"What!?" Yakov yelled. Now he was paying attention. "You can't do that!" He looked over at Georgi. "Can he?"</p><p>Georgi slipped his headphones on and looked out the window.</p><p>"He has all your information."</p><p>True to his word, Viktor had opened the app and was in the process of creating the account.</p><p>"What do you want for your username?" Viktor asked.</p><p>"Nothing!" Yakov said. "I don't want an Instagram!"</p><p>"Alright," Viktor said. "I'll just find a variation of 'Yakov Feltsman.'"</p><p>"Stop this, Vitya!" Yakov shouted.</p><p>"What about your profile picture?" Viktor asked. "Should I find one of your old skating photos or pick something more recent?"</p><p>That seemed to be the last straw. With a growl, Yakov reached over, grabbing for Viktor's phone. Viktor moved away as far as he could, practically crawling onto Georgi's lap.</p><p>"Come on, Yakov," he said. "I'll give you a shoutout!"</p><p>"Give me the phone!"</p><p>"It'll be fun!"</p><p>"Vitya!"</p><p>"Will you two stop crushing me!" Georgi yelled. He was being crushed uncomfortably against the window.</p><p>Yakov scowled and returned to his seat.</p><p>Viktor used those precious few seconds to finish creating the account.</p><p>"Done!" Viktor said, gleefully. He hadn't had time to upload a profile picture, but he could always fix that later. Satisfied, he turned off his phone and slipped it into his pocket.</p><p>"Georgi, follow Yakov's new account," Viktor said, returning to his seat.</p><p>Georgi pulled out his phone.</p><p>"Do not!" Yakov yelled. He turned to Viktor, his entire face red. "And you will regret doing that!"</p><p>Viktor only smiled, watching a vein throb on Yakov's forehead.</p><p>"Doing what? Improving your public image?" Viktor asked innocently. "If anything, I'm doing you a favor."</p><p>Yakov continued to scowl.</p><p>Viktor turned back to his phone. Sure, his coach could always punish him with exercises or a stern lecture. But this was simply too much fun, Viktor would gladly embrace any amount of soreness just to see Yakov get riled up again.</p><p>After the competition was over, and more importantly, after the majority of Yakov's anger had passed. Viktor gave Yakov the account information. He had gotten every skater and coach he could to follow the account. He had also uploaded a profile picture. It was from Yakov's skating days and showed the former skater decked out in a vibrant 60s outfit.</p><p>Curiously, Yakov didn't delete the account.</p><p>A month later, Viktor noticed he had switched from a flip phone to a smartphone.</p><p>And so it began.</p>
<hr/><p>They could hear Yakov yell from across the rink.</p><p>"Georgi! Get over here!"</p><p>Georgi skated over to his coach. It was nearly the end of a long practice session and his skates were beginning to feel like deadweights on his feet.</p><p>He came to a stop next to the boards. Yakov was staring down at his new phone. The coach was still learning how to properly navigate the internet and frequently referred to his skaters for help.</p><p>"What is this?" Yakov asked, showing him the screen.</p><p>Georgi took a single glance.</p><p>"Oh," he said. "That's um…"</p><p>He frantically looked around for an escape. His eyes came to rest on the clock on the opposite wall.</p><p>"Sorry, but I just remembered Anya is waiting for me," Georgi said in what he hoped was a convincing tone. "I'll see you tomorrow."</p><p>Without another word, Georgi fled across the rink. He headed straight for the locker rooms, hoping he could make it to the safety of the corridor before Yakov could respond.</p><p>Behind him, he heard another yell cut through the air.</p><p>"Vitya!" Yakov bellowed.</p><p>Georgi quickly ducked behind a nearby pillar, watching as his rinkmate skated up to their coach.</p><p>"Yes?" Viktor asked.</p><p>Yakov lifted the phone.</p><p>"Explain this."</p><p>Viktor didn't even blink.</p><p>"Oh yeah, that's called 'BDSM,'" Viktor said. He paused for a moment. "Have we taught you how to clear your search history?"</p>
<hr/><p>The following competition season found them sitting together at an airport gate, waiting to board the plane. Viktor was eating a cup of overpriced fruit. Across from him, Georgi was reading a magazine. Yakov was sitting next to him, his phone in his hand.</p><p>"I can never understand these Western Customs," Yakov said. "Why would you refrain from eating nuts for an entire month?"</p><p>Viktor choked.</p><p>He looked at Georgi, who was staring at him with wide eyes.</p><p>"Um, Yakov," Georgi said. "That's not referring to what you think it's referring to."</p><p>"Then what is it?"</p><p>With a pained expression, Georgi leaned over and whispered something in Yakov's ear.</p><p>Yakov scowled. He turned off his phone and slipped it into his pocket.</p><p>"Does everything on the internet have a sexual nature?" he asked.</p><p>No one answered him.</p>
<hr/><p>The following Autumn, Mila found herself stretching beside the rink. Most of the skaters chose to warm up in the weight room or the corridors leading to the locker room. However she had discovered this glorious spot where the sunlight shone down through the overhead windows, warming a small patch of ground.</p><p>This was St. Petersburg, so the sunlight was barely strong enough to warm her skin. But in a perpetual snow covered city, one learned to cherish all the sunlight one could get. It had quickly become her favorite place to warm up for the day.</p><p>Her coach, Yakov, was sitting on a bench off to the side. There was a packet of papers on his lap before him.</p><p>Mila dropped down into a split. If she didn't know any better she'd say the formatting of the pages looked oddly familiar. Almost like...</p><p>"Did… did you print out an entire social media feed?"</p><p>Yakov didn't even blink.</p><p>"It's easier on my eyes."</p><p>Mila ended up stretching in the weight room.</p>
<hr/><p>One would assume that Viktor's ability to win gold and Christophe's ability to repeatedly claim silver would've sparked a rivalry between the two skaters. However both athletes highly respected each other and over the years had nurtured a casual friendship.</p><p>The night before a competition found them lounging in Viktor's hotel room. Both skaters were glued to their prospective phones, endlessly scrolling through social media.</p><p>Chris placed his phone beside him and sighed.</p><p>"Let's sneak out," he said.</p><p>"What?" Viktor asked, looking up from his screen. "But we're competing tomorrow."</p><p>"Didn't say we would be gone for long," Chris said. "Just a few hours."</p><p>"I don't know," Viktor said. He had promised Yakov he would go to bed early.</p><p>"Come on," Chris urged. "We're in Los Angeles. Let's have some fun."</p><p>"Where would we even go?" Viktor asked. He wasn't agreeing to anything. He was just curious.</p><p>Chris leaned backward on the sofa.</p><p>"How about clubbing?" he said. "There has to be some good places nearby."</p><p>Viktor shook his head.</p><p>"We shouldn't."</p><p>"But it sounds fun," Chris said. "Doesn't it?"</p><p>Viktor looked away. He had to admit the idea sounded very thrilling.</p><p>"Yakov will be mad at me," he said.</p><p>"So don't tell him," Chris said. "As long as we don't stay out too late, our coaches will never know."</p><p>Viktor stared up at the ceiling, thinking. After a moment he glanced over at Chris.</p><p>"What do you want to wear?" Viktor asked.</p><p>Half an hour later, they found themselves strolling down a teeming boulevard. Viktor had opted to wear a simple jeans, t-shirt, and blazer. Chris was also wearing jeans, but embellished his attire with a tight fitting shirt that showed off his arms.</p><p>They were laughing among themselves, enjoying the adventure of exploring the Los Angeles downtown. So far they had visited several clubs, but only stayed for a little while each time. Nothing had caught their eye yet, but they weren't in a rush. They continued to wander, enjoying the thrill of the ever changing venues.</p><p>As they exited yet another club, Viktor snapped a picture next to a particularly interesting statue and uploaded it to Instagram.</p><p>"Where do you want to go next?" Chris asked.</p><p>Viktor thought to himself. He hadn't been in Los Angeles in a while.</p><p>"We should check out Hollywood," he said.</p><p>"How far away is that?" Chris asked.</p><p>Viktor pulled out his phone.</p><p>"It's over a two hour walk," he said. "But only about a 20 minute drive. We can take a taxi."</p><p>Chris tilted his head, thinking it over.</p><p>They had only been drinking non-alcoholic beverages, but that had been the limit to their self control. It was one thing to walk around downtown, enjoying overpriced drinks and feeling the city buzz around them. But to go to the other side of town, even further away from their hotel. That meant staying out for more than just a few hours.</p><p>Viktor quickly pushed away any feelings of guilt. It wasn't even midnight. They had plenty of time. Besides, he didn't know when he'll be able to visit Los Angeles again.</p><p>"Find a club on that side of town," Chris said. "Something with good music."</p><p>"Alright," Viktor said.</p><p>Just as he turned back to his phone, it lit up with an incoming call. A cold feeling of dread washed over him as he read the name on the screen.</p><p><em>"Oh no,"</em> Viktor said.</p><p>"What is it?" Chris asked. He glanced over at the phone.</p><p>"It's Yakov."</p><p>Chris froze.</p><p>"I'm just going to let it ring," Viktor said.</p><p>"No!" Chris said. "Answer it!"</p><p>"What?" Viktor asked. Did his friend have a deathwish?</p><p>"He could just be checking up on you," Chris explained. "But if you don't answer, then he'll know something is wrong."</p><p>Viktor looked down at the phone buzzing in his hand. There was no time to think. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and accepted the call.</p><p><em>"Yes, Yakov?"</em> Viktor said in Russian. He prayed the background noise wouldn't give him away.</p><p><em>"Where are you!?"</em> Yakov yelled.</p><p><em>"What are you talking about?"</em> Viktor said. <em>"I'm in my hotel room."</em></p><p><em>"Sure you are!"</em> Yakov yelled. <em>"Would you mind telling me what you're doing walking down Broadway with Giacometti!?"</em></p><p>Viktor froze.</p><p>"How do you know where I am?" he asked, switching to English. Even he wasn't entirely sure where they were. Viktor glanced over at a nearby street sign. Sure enough, they were on Broadway.</p><p><em>"That's what you're worried about!?"</em> Yakov continued to yell in Russian.<em> "The competition is tomorrow! Get back to the hotel! Now!"</em></p><p>Yakov hung up.</p><p>Viktor looked up at his friend. Chris was staring at him with wide eyes. Language barrier or not, the meaning of Yakov's call was clear.</p><p>Without another word, they began sprinting back to the hotel.</p><p>Viktor took the lead, Chris trailing a little behind him. Their feet pounded on the pavement; heartbeats hammering in their ears. Together they sprinted around tourists, dodged late night shoppers, and dashed past street signs.</p><p>"How did he know where we were?" Viktor asked between breaths.</p><p>He was fairly certain that Yakov was still at the hotel. It was highly unlikely that someone had followed them. So how did Yakov find out? Did he stop by Viktor's hotel room and saw that he was missing?</p><p>That didn't make sense. Since Viktor was an adult, the hotel staff only gave him one key. Yakov didn't have access to his hotel room.</p><p>But what other explanation was there? Had Yakov bribed the staff into giving him another key? Did he put a <em>tracking device</em> on him?</p><p>An hour ago the idea would've sounded preposterous, but at the moment Viktor wasn't too sure.</p><p>"You posted that picture," Chris said. "Maybe he saw it."</p><p>"But Yakov barely uses his Instagram."</p><p>"Well what other explanation is there!"</p><p>Unfortunately, there wasn't any time to discuss the matter further. The hotel was coming into view.</p><p>Their coaches were waiting for them in the lobby. Yakov's face was redder than Viktor had ever seen it and Josef was frowning deeply. Before either skater could utter a word of apology, both coaches began to yell at them, scolding them like children.</p><p>The lecture only came to a stop when a timid hotel manager pointed out that they were scaring the other guests.</p><p>Yakov walked Viktor up to his hotel room. He kept muttering under his breath and gritting his teeth, barely able to contain his rage. Viktor wouldn't be surprised if his hairline had retreated by a few more centimeters.</p><p>"Goodnight, Yakov," Viktor said once he'd entered his hotel room.</p><p>Yakov slammed the door closed.</p><p>With a shake of his head, Viktor took off his clothes and climbed into bed. He'll take a shower in the morning.</p><p>His phone buzzed with a notification. The photo he had posted was getting a lot of likes and comments. Viktor smiled to himself. Sneaking out had been fun while it lasted.</p><p>He began scrolling through his Instagram feed. On the other side of the world, the Crispino twins were starting their day. They had posted a picture of them stretching with a beautiful sunrise in the background. Viktor liked the photo and continued to scroll.</p><p>His phone screen lit up with an incoming call.</p><p>It was Yakov.</p><p>Raising an eyebrow, Viktor accepted the call.</p><p>"Hello?"</p><p><em>"Stop scrolling through Instagram and go to sleep!</em>" Yakov yelled.</p><p>Then he hung up again.</p><p>Viktor stared at his phone before slowly placing it beside him on the bed. So Yakov was using Instagram to stalk him.</p><p>Well that certainly changed things.</p>
<hr/><p>"Yakov, I think your account was hacked," Georgi said.</p><p>With all honesty, Georgi would rather chug a bottle of hot sauce than be having this conversation. However, he had drawn the short stick (literally). So after a long day of practice, while Viktor left to walk Makkachin, Georgi, true to his word, dragged his feet over to their coach's office.</p><p>"What do you mean?" Yakov asked.</p><p>Georgi took out his phone and showed the older man his screen. The Instagram account was a complete mess. There had been four posts this past week: two horrible skating memes, one badly screenshotted tumblr post, and a blurry photo of Yakov's chin; and that was just the start of it.</p><p>Yakov squinted at the screen.</p><p>"No," he said. "I posted those."</p><p>Georgi blinked.</p><p>"You posted." Georgi looked down at his phone. "A meme titled <em>'parents at shows/competitions'</em> followed by a gif of Minions cheering."</p><p>Yakov only shrugged.</p><p>"I thought it was accurate."</p><p>"How about this one?" Georgi asked, scrolling to the next post. "It's titled <em>'hockey players with no self awareness'</em> followed by a gif of a guy in a mohawk saying<em> 'you guys look totally lost.'"</em></p><p>"That was actually supposed to be a gif of a woman being run over by a horse," Yakov said. "It must have not been saved correctly."</p><p>Georgi pinched the bridge of his nose.</p><p>"We're supposed to get along with the hockey players," he said.</p><p>Yakov only shook his head.</p><p>"You young skaters don't understand," Yakov said. His face was reddening, voice level increasing with great gusto. "Our skating complex has separate rinks for hockey and figure skaters. <em>You</em> have never had to share the ice with them. <em>You</em> do not know the pain of being run over by someone going 30 km/hr. <em>You</em>-"</p><p>"Okay fine," Georgi interrupted, before the lecture could get out of hand. "How about your last post?"</p><p>Yakov looked at the screen.</p><p>"The one about <em>'Figure Skating Terms,'"</em> he nodded, a smile crossing his features. "I thought that one was very funny."</p><p>Georgi looked down at his phone and began to read it. "The first one is <em>'Ice tourist - someone who skates during the holiday season.'"</em></p><p>"Must be a western terminology," Yakov said. "I've never heard it before."</p><p>Georgi continued. <em>"Skating coach - friend, therapist, motivator, cheerleader, and teacher… all in one."</em></p><p>"All accurate," Yakov said. "Although I would've also included 'babysitter.'"</p><p>
  <em>"Axel - the right of passage."</em>
</p><p>"You did cry when you finally managed it," Yakov said.</p><p>Georgi remembered, but he kept reading.</p><p>
  <em>"Skate bag - everything but the kitchen sink."</em>
</p><p>"I once saw Vitya pull a toaster oven out of his bag so he could make fresh sandwiches after practice," Yakov said. "Almost set off the smoke alarm."</p><p>Georgi set down his phone.</p><p>"Why are you mentioning this anyway?" Yakov asked.</p><p>Georgi sighed.</p><p>"Your account looks like it's being run by a twelve year old," he said. "Buzzfeed even wrote a listicle titled <em>'Top 10 posts from Russia's most famous coach that are too hilarious to miss.'"</em></p><p>"They consider me Russia's most famous coach? Out of <em>all</em> the sports?"</p><p>"You're missing the point," Georgi said. "Why don't you consider posting something else besides memes? I know you're good at photography. Why not post pictures of our practices or competitions?"</p><p>"Do you see how tiny this camera is?" Yakov asked, pointing at his phone. "It's probably only a single megapixel," he said. "I can't take decent photos with that."</p><p>"But Yakov," Georgi said. "You coach <em>Olympic</em> figure skaters. Don't you think this is a little unprofessional?"</p><p>Yakov stared at him. "During his first Olympics, Vitya released a bird into the crowd so he'll have a 'more dramatic entrance.'"</p><p>Georgi bit his lip.</p><p>"Alright fair point," he said. This conversation was getting nowhere. He'll have to settle for a smaller victory and try to salvage the situation later.</p><p>"But at the very least," Georgi tried. "Can you please take down the photo of your chin? And maybe fix your profile too?"</p><p>"What's wrong with my profile?"</p><p>"Your profile picture is just a black circle," Georgi said.</p><p>"It is?" Yakov asked. "I was just trying to replace the one Vitya picked." He pulled out his phone. "Let me try again."</p><p>For several painful minutes, Georgi watched in silence as Yakov slowly tapped away at his phone.</p><p>After a while, Yakov looked up.</p><p>"Did I fix it?"</p><p>Georgi refreshed his screen.</p><p>"You managed to upload the photo," Georgi said. "But it's upside down."</p><p>Yakov squinted at the screen.</p><p>"So it is," he said. "Let me try again."</p><p>Georgi resisted the urge to sigh. It was going to be a long night.</p>
<hr/><p>Yuri was doing stretches in the weight room, music blasting in his ears. Across from him, Viktor and Georgi were taking turns on the bench press, spotting one another. His music was usually too loud to hear what they were saying, but as one song slowly faded out he was able to hear a snippet of their conversation.</p><p>"It would make things so much easier," Viktor said.</p><p>"Not happening," Georgi said.</p><p>"But we wouldn't have to explain as much."</p><p>"Well suck it up," Georgi said. "No matter what happens, we are NOT introducing Yakov to Urban Dictionary."</p><p>Yuri turned his music volume all the way up.</p>
<hr/><p>It was a rare sunny day in St. Petersburg. Mila pulled open the doors to the rink, a beaming smile on her face and a skip to her step.</p><p>She dropped off her bag in the locker room and began searching for her coach. She found Yakov standing next to the rink, watching Viktor skate.</p><p>"Yakov," she called. "My skates finally came in!"</p><p>She had grown out of her old ones during her last growth spurt. They were now uncomfortably tight, her heel sporting blisters and her toes squished in the confines of steel.</p><p>Yakov nodded.</p><p>"Do you remember how to break them in?" he asked.</p><p>"I think so," she said.</p><p>"Stick to the basics for the next few days," Yakov instructed. "Start with laps. Maybe go on to spins if you feel up for it."</p><p>"Alright," Mila said. She shifted her feet. "But I want to take a picture with them. Can you please help me?"</p><p>Despite his dismal online skills, Yakov was more than a decent photographer. Decades of skating and coaching had given him an artistic eye. Mila was almost disappointed he didn't use his skills more often.</p><p>"Fine," Yakov said.</p><p>They waited until Viktor finished a run through of his program before finding a place to take the picture. Yakov chose a spot at the end of the rink. It was well lit with skaters practicing in the background. Mila passed him her phone. She fixed her hair and lifted up her new skates, smiling.</p><p>Yakov raised her phone, adjusting the photo's lighting.</p><p>There was a loud crash from behind her.</p><p>Mila turned. Viktor had crashed into the boards and was sprawled out on the ice.</p><p>"I'm okay!" Viktor yelled, but made no attempt to get back up. He was dramatic like that, laying on the ice until another skater (usually Yuri) threatened to run over his fingers.</p><p>Mila looked back to Yakov. Only to find him already handing back the phone.</p><p>"Thank you," she said, accepting it.</p><p>Yakov gave her a nod.</p><p>"Vitya, Get up!" he yelled. "I want to see that jump again."</p><p>Viktor peeled himself up from the ice and skated over to Yakov.</p><p>Mila glanced down at her phone, flipping through her gallery.</p><p>Yakov had taken a single photo.</p><p>It was a good picture. In the foreground Mila was posing with her new skates. Her smile was even and hair well kept. The perspective was natural and there were no awkward shadows across her face. However in the background, Viktor Nikiforov, living legend of figure skating, was sprawled out on the ice.</p><p>She posted the picture anyway.</p>
<hr/><p>Viktor felt his phone buzz in his pocket just as they were returning to their hotel room.</p><p>The media was ablaze with the Cup of China results. Phichit's Chulanont's gold medal was sparking national pride all across Thailand. Meanwhile, Katsuki Yuuri's silver medal was proof that the Japanese skater was undoubtedly making a comeback. And then, of course, there was their kiss.</p><p>The reporters had mobbed them the moment they left the arena. Viktor was still blinking the sun spots from his vision. Truthfully, he still wasn't exactly sure how they had managed to navigate through the mass of camera and microphones to the hotel.</p><p>Nevertheless, they were finally alone.</p><p>Yuuri turned to him the moment the hotel door closed behind them, his skating bag clanging loudly on the floor. Before Viktor could comment on the blatant mistreatment of training equipment, Yuuri reached forward and pressed their lips together.</p><p>Viktor's mind went blank; his brain overloaded with endorphins. He rested his hands on the skater's hips and leaned closer, melting into the kiss.</p><p>Yuuri's lips were <em>unbelievably</em> soft.</p><p>It was at that moment he felt his phone buzz annoyingly in his pocket. Viktor reached for it, attempting to place it on a nearby table. Unfortunately (or fortunately, Viktor wasn't sure), Yuuri decided that was the moment to leave a trail of searing kisses down his neck. Viktor groaned, his grip slipped, and the phone went tumbling to the floor. He cursed, looking over to make sure the screen hadn't shattered. But he stopped in his tracks when he saw the name on the screen.</p><p>"What is it?" Yuuri asked, his breath hot next to his ear.</p><p>Though it pained him dearly, Viktor stepped away from him and bent down to pick up his phone.</p><p>"It's Georgi," Viktor said.</p><p>He hadn't really spoken to Georgi since he left Russia. Even now that they were back in the same city, they had barely talked all competition long.</p><p>The phone went silent, the call going to voicemail. Just when Viktor was about to put down, it started buzzing once more. Georgi was calling him again.</p><p>"Do you need a moment?" Yuuri asked.</p><p>"Yeah," Viktor said, shooting Yuuri what he hoped was an apologetic look.</p><p>It was mildly concerning. Viktor knew Georgi wouldn't call unless it was something urgent. Curious, he accepted the call and raised the phone to his ear.</p><p>"Hello?"</p><p><em>"Yes, Viktor,"</em> Georgi said. He was speaking Russian. <em>"There's an emergency."</em></p><p><em>"What happened?"</em> Viktor asked, creasing his brow. He began to run possible scenarios through his head.</p><p><em>"It's Yakov,"</em> Georgi said. A tense moment passed. <em>"Did you see what he posted?"</em></p><p>Viktor chuckled, all the tension in his body leaving as quickly as it came.</p><p>"<em>Well, I'd love to help,"</em> Viktor said, the corners of his lips tilting upwards.<em> "But fortunately for me, Yakov isn't my coach anymore."</em></p><p>
  <em>"But you were the one who made him the account in the first place!"</em>
</p><p><em>"I'm not his skater,"</em> Viktor argued. <em>"And did you see the way he treated me yesterday? It was very rude."</em></p><p>
  <em>"Viktor, please."</em>
</p><p><em>"Good luck, Georgi," </em>Viktor said. <em>"I'm sure you can handle it."</em></p><p>
  <em>"Viktor-"</em>
</p><p>He hung up. The screen lit up again with Georgi's name, but Viktor turned the phone off.</p><p>"What was that about?" Yuuri asked.</p><p>Viktor placed his phone on the table. He didn't answer Yuuri immediately, instead reaching forward to cup his lover's face.</p><p>"It was nothing," he said, brushing their lips together.</p><p>He moved to deepen the kiss, but Yuuri leaned away.</p><p>"Let me guess," Yuuri said, gazing up at him. <em>He was so beautiful.</em> "I don't want to know?"</p><p>"It's really best if you don't," Viktor said, lost in the depths of Yuuri's eyes. "It's not important anyway."</p><p>Yuuri smiled and wrapped his arms around Viktor's waist. Viktor leaned into the motion, locking their lips together once more. His heart was beating passionately in his chest. Yuuri hummed against him, grasping his coat and dragging him closer. In response, Viktor leaned down and sucked at Yuuri's pulse, enjoying the way Yuuri began to shiver against him.</p><p>Viktor pulled away after a moment, allowing them to catch their breath.</p><p>"The good news," he said, admiring Yuuri's flushed cheeks. "Is that we won't have to worry about the media harassing us over our kiss. Our risqué pictures from the other night are going to have some competition too."</p><p>Yuuri raised an eyebrow, but Viktor simply silenced him with another kiss.</p>
<hr/><p>Yuri had never been more grateful to finally arrive at the hotel.</p><p>It wasn't a particularly long walk from the restaurant, but the other skaters were starting to get on his nerves. Viktor's recent engagement had made the man even more insufferable (if that was even possible). Phichit and Chris were doing nothing to alleviate the situation, gushing over the couple to their heart's content. However what peeved Yuri the most was JJ. The skater and his fiancé had followed them, continuously boasting that JJ was going to be the one to win the Grand Prix Final.</p><p>Yuri had assumed that Otabek would be mortified by the other skater's antics. After all, the man was known for being a recluse. However, Otabek stayed alongside him the entire way to the hotel. They had even begun to exchange glances whenever one of the other skaters said something particularly bizarre.</p><p>Upon arriving in the lobby, Viktor and Phichit stopped to chat, gushing over last year's banquet photos. Yuuri stood next to them, looking vaguely mortified. The rest of the group continued to head for the elevators. Yuri signaled for Otabek to hang back, faking mild interest in Viktor and Phichit's conversation.</p><p>In reality, he just didn't want to endure an elevator ride with JJ. He glanced around. There had to be somewhere private for him and Otabek to talk.</p><p>"Yura," he heard someone call.</p><p>Yuri looked over to see Yakov crossing the lobby to meet them.</p><p>"I see you finally managed to make it back to the hotel in one piece," the coach said.</p><p>Before Yuri could manage a retort, Viktor stepped in front of him, having abandoned the conversation with Phichit.</p><p>"Yakov!" Viktor said. "Yurio finally made a friend!"</p><p>"I know," Yakov replied, eyeing Otabek. "The reporters have been harassing me all day. Next time you decide to do something reckless, please lmk in advance."</p><p>That was the exact moment Yuri felt a part of him <em>die</em> inside. Forget the Grand Prix Final, Yuri would give up skating entirely if that meant he could rewind the last 30 seconds. Yakov<em> did not</em> just say texting slang <em>out loud.</em></p><p>Yuri glanced over at Otabek, trying to gauge his friend's reaction. If the skater was disturbed by Yakov's ineptitude, he didn't show it; his expression remained as stoic as ever.</p><p>Yuri looked back at Viktor, praying that the older man would save him from certain humiliation.</p><p>Unfortunately the moment that sentence had left Yakov's lips, Viktor had taken Yuuri's hand and fled for the stairway.</p><p>
  <em>The traitor.</em>
</p><p>"What was that about?" Yakov asked, watching as Viktor and Yuuri made a break for it.</p><p>Yuri signed, cursing his fate. As the only Russian skater present, it was his responsibility to explain.</p><p>"Yakov," Yuri started. "'lmk' is an acronym."</p><p>"It's actually an initialism," Phichit said. To his credit, the other skater didn't even look fazed.</p><p>"An initialism," Yuri corrected, even though he had absolutely no idea what an initialism was. "It's informal texting slang that should only be used digitally, not in verbal conversations."</p><p>Yakov nodded, seemingly oblivious to his skater's embarrassment.</p><p>"English is a very difficult language," he said. "Thank you for telling me, Yura."</p><p>The elevator doors opened before them and they all got on. Yuri pressed his floor button and stood as far back in the elevator as he could. Otabek went to stand beside him.</p><p>Yuri gave him an apologetic look.</p><p>Otabek responded with an affectionate twitch of his lips.</p><p>Yuri allowed himself to exhale. Alright. No harm done. All that was left to do was crawl in bed and pretend that this <em>never</em> happened (and also plot revenge against Viktor for ditching him).</p><p>Unfortunately, Yakov had one last thing to say.</p><p>"I'm glad we nipped that in the butt," Yakov said.</p><p>This time, Yuri kept his mouth clamped shut.</p><p>Otabek glanced over at him and raised a single eyebrow, but Yuri only responded with a furious shake of his head.</p>
<hr/><p>Lilia Baranovskaya had attended numerous skating competitions, but the most recent Russian Nationals proved to be the most strenuous. The entire world seemed to be ablaze with Viktor Nikiforov's return. Reporters followed them like a mob wherever they went. Skaters glared vengefully, half relieved that Viktor had finally returned and half envious that their odds of winning were that much lower.</p><p>It was for this reason that after a long day, Lilia found herself sitting in the backroom. They had a small break in their schedule. Lilia was perfectly content to spend those minutes sitting here and doing absolutely nothing.</p><p>Yakov was seated next to her. He was looking down at his phone, engrossed in something on the screen. That was peculiar. Back when they were still married, he never had the interests for these sort of things. She glanced over at his screen.</p><p>"That's not how you use that hashtag," she said.</p><p>Yakov didn't even look up.</p><p>"I know," he said.</p><p>Lilia pursed her lips.</p><p>"Why do you feel the need to torment them?" she asked.</p><p>"Lilia," Yakov said, looking up at her. "Just this year: Vitya stopped a five year winning streak so he could run off to <em>Japan</em> and seduce a man who drunkenly pole danced at a banquet. All Georgi's programs are centered around his recent breakup. Mila purposely antagonizes her rinkmates and keeps doing improvised lifts. During his exhibition skate, Yuri hurled a pair of sunglasses <em>into the crowd</em>-"</p><p>"That's not what I meant," Lilia interrupted. "I agree, your skaters can be nuisances."</p><p>Yakov scoffed at that.</p><p>She ignored him. "But you are their coach. If they truly vex you so much, surely you could resort to exercises as physical punishments."</p><p>"I tried," he said. "Do you know what Vitya did the first time I made him do pushups for talking back at me? He laughed. To my face. Then he did twice the required pushups just to prove a point."</p><p>"And this is the alternative?"</p><p>"For years I've struggled to find a way to get back at them. Nothing works. But pay attention to their expressions when they see this post," Yakov said. "I've never seen anything so amusing."</p><p>Lilia simply shook her head.</p><p>"Are you disappointed in me?" Yakov asked.</p><p>She shrugged.</p><p>"I suppose I never considered that you of all people would resort to this," she said. "It's awfully…"</p><p>"Childish?"</p><p>"Well yes," Lilia said. "But it's also remarkably effective."</p><p>Yakov smiled and turned back to his phone.</p><p>"Are you going to tell them?" he asked.</p><p>"Not at the moment," she said.</p><p>There was a moment of silence.</p><p>"Besides," she said. "It is fun to watch them squirm."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>special thanks to @figureskaterlife on tumblr for helping me with the figure skating memes</p><p>Acronym (n) - an abbreviation formed from the initial letters of other words and pronounced as a word (NASA, NATO, PIN)<br/>Initialism (n) - an abbreviation consisting of individual letter pronounced separately (RSVP, DNA, FAQ)</p><p>Conspiracy theory that Yakov has a secret Instagram account (probably either stunning photography, bad food reviews, or a decent skating account). The only person to ever discover it is Yuuri, who is immediately sworn to secrecy because if the Russian skaters ever found out there will be a RIOT.</p><p>Also the second to last scene was literally:<br/>Yakov: I wonder what my skaters have been up to?<br/>Yakov: *sees Yuri made his first friend*<br/>Yakov: *sees Viktor got engaged*<br/>Yakov:<br/>Yakov: I am going to embarrass the hell out of them</p><p>I am also looking for a beta reader so let me know if that interests you</p><p>Check out my <a href="https://abstract-moth.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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